A Stormy Meeting
by RedCoatsRedder
Summary: Requested by a friend. Washington comforts Hamilton during a nasty storm. Washingdad! Mindless! Fluff! Too! Much! Fluff! Could! Physically! Choke! You! Bonding! Sweetness! Kinda bad, but oh well.


**My newest one shot! So I know that I have Children of the Revolution to work on, but I have writer's block and this was a good idea. I'm also working on a story where Laurens is Phillip's guardian spirit. So this was requested by LunaLovegood220022/Cat, hope you enjoy it!**

George Washington had a headache. Again. When one works with Alexander Hamilton and Thomas Jefferson, they are to be expected. And when one expects them to work _together,_ one is basically inviting a headache. And so his two secretaries were shouting back and forth at the cabinet meeting, per usual.

"Hamilton, no. That's ridiculous. We don't need another crazy long shot idea of yours to shake the already fragile foundations of this country."

"Jefferson, I know it must be hard to see past your ego, but this system will only strengthen the country. If anything, not having it would make the country more fragile."

At this the other members of the cabinet shouted and hooted. Washington sighed and rubbed his temple. Sometimes it felt like he was working with children. Time to interfere before this meeting went as far as the last one, which had resulted in several quills stuck in Jefferson's hair, and Hamilton's coat covered in ink.

He rose to his feet, calling out, "ENOUGH! Let's go back to a _civilized_ conversation, shall we gentlemen?" Both men tugged at their sleeves, glaring at each other. Hamilton was the first to respond. "Yes, sir." He moved back to his chair, and Jefferson continued.

It was very warm in the room, what with it being the heat of summer. Jefferson's voice faded to a background drone, and Washington's gaze was snagged by the dark clouds rolling in the sky outside the window. A powerful wind could be seen sweeping leaves and trash around in the gutters.

Jefferson had just finished speaking his piece and was moving to sit down when loud thunder boomed throughout the room. Everyone jumped slightly in their chairs. Well, it was about time. Summer storms were common enough, and this particular one had been brewing for days. It was due to begin, really.

Washington cleared his throat. "Thank you, Secretary Jefferson. Secretary Hamilton, your response." His tone conveyed, _watch your mouth, young man._ He knew that Hamilton would pick up on it. The boy was quite intuitive, having worked at the man's side during the war for four years.

Except…..Hamilton didn't seem to have heard him. The man was staring blankly at the page before him, looking startled and somehow, impossibly afraid. That couldn't be right. Hamilton was never like this. He faced enemy bullets with a smile on his face, and was always the first to charge, the first to attack, never hesitating. But now, something had clearly shocked him into this odd reaction.

"Secretary Hamilton?" Washington prompted. A few people snickered. Hamilton swallowed and looked around, as if only just realizing that he was in the middle of a room full of people. He stood up, gripping the desk in front of him for support.

"Ah. Well, um, yes, Jefferson, -I…" he trailed off, and before he could continue, another, louder clap of thunder rang through the room. Hamilton's knuckles turned white on the desk. His eyes fluttered closed, and a bead of sweat ran down his face that couldn't have been caused by the heat in the room. His eyes opened again, and they nervously flickered over the faces of the cabinet members. Jefferson was beginning to smirk.

"Why, Hamilton, cat got your tongue? It is nice to hear you shut up for once, though. Please, keep it going."

The President groaned internally. "Mr. Jefferson, enough. Hamilton, _your response?"_ Perhaps he should not have spoken so harshly, but it could not be helped now. His secretary flinched.

Lightning struck just outside the window, illuminating the room in a brief, bright flash. To his surprise, and everyone in the room's, Hamilton let out a harsh whimper. He suddenly whirled around and dashed from the room, his coat flaring behind him. The meeting room was silent. Jefferson spoke up.

"Well, then. Guess someone should go and find the little wretch?" He was smirking. A few people laughed. Washington rose to his feet, exasperated. "Secretary Jefferson, I said enough. Meeting adjourned." He strode out of the room, intending to find his Treasury Secretary, and give him a long lecture.

The hallways were empty as he walked past, everyone still back at the meeting room. Washington approached Hamilton's office, rapping lightly on the door with his knuckles. When he got no response, he opened the door.

The office was completely deserted. Paper was piled on the desk, the chair, and pretty much any flat surface. Quills and ink were stacked precariously wherever there was space. But no sign of Hamilton. He had simply disappeared.

Now feeling the stirrings of worry in his gut, Washington increased his pace as he roamed the halls, searching in all of the rooms he came across. Nothing. No one had seen him. Forget worried. He was starting to panic. Almost running now, he flung open all of the doors he came across, regardless of the room.

He thought he had searched every room in the building when his latest flinging open of a door resulted in a soft wail. The room was dark, with the window obscured by thick curtains and no sign of light from within. But the light from the hall pierced the gloom, and Washington squinted, just able to make out what appeared to be an unused office. A desk was shoved against the back wall, and a few chairs were scattered about. But no one was sitting in any of them, yet the wail had not come from the furniture.

Washington let the door fall closed once more, and hurried to grab a candle from one of the nearby, used rooms. Now armed with a small, flickering light he ventured into the room once more, closing the door behind him. The room still appeared to be unoccupied, but if he listened closely he could hear faint whimpering and sniffling noises.

Candlelight only did so much, so Washington moved in the vague direction of the sounds, and eventually his boot nudged something pressed up against the wall, which promptly made an indignant sound. It was Hamilton, curled into a tight ball and hidden in a corner of the room.

Setting down the candle, Washington sat across from Hamilton, who peeked at him from over his knees. For a while, neither party said a word. Then, the President decided to break the silence. "There you are. I've been looking all over for you, young man." He attempted a weak chuckle and moved to grab the boy's arm. His secretary shrank backwards.

"M' sorry, sir." His mouth opened and closed twice, before he dropped his head back onto his knees. Washington frowned. No, this wasn't like Hamilton at all. More thunder echoed across the skies, bringing with it heavy rain that dashed against the windows. Hamilton let out a shriek, and quickly bit down on his sleeve to cut it off. Realization struck Washington.

"You're scared of storms, aren't you." It was a statement, not a question. The young man shuddered and squeezed his eyes tightly shut. In the dim light Washington could see a blush blooming over his cheeks. The boy was evidently embarrassed. "I'm not mocking you, Hamilton. I just want to know why you ran out of the cabinet meeting like you saw a ghost."

A slow tear made its way down Hamilton's cheek, followed by another. He took several gasping breaths and shuddered. Washington sighed. He moved so he was sitting next to the secretary, close enough to reach out and grab him. Hamilton shifted away, trying to put space in between himself and the president. He hid his face in his arms in a futile attempt to disguise the tears now rolling down his face.

Washington threw any reserve he had left away, and gently wrapped an arm around Hamilton's shoulders, pulling him close. The younger man protested and tried to push away at first, but another flash of lightning followed by a clap of thunder caused him to bury his face in Washington's side.

The President smoothed Hamilton's hair down and rubbed his back soothingly. "There, now. You're alright, I'm here, I'm here. Hush. It's okay."

His boy's sobs abated, and he took deep, gasping breaths. Suddenly, Hamilton spoke. "When I was seventeen, there- there was a hurricane." He stopped, but Washington didn't say anything, knowing that it would cause Hamilton to stop talking.

"It, it was horrible. The wind, and the water, they were so strong, so destructive. And when it was finally done, finally gone, the town was destroyed. Bodies were everywhere and the people who survived just wandered around in a daze. And it was just so terrifying, I thought I was going to die, and I was _so so scared._ And every time it storms I just remember the hurricane and I just, it's like it's happening all over again." He hid his face in Washington's chest again.

Hamilton was so much smaller than him. Washington looked at him, considering. Would he push away? He sighed once more and slid an arm underneath Hamilton's legs, so he was now cradling the secretary against his chest.

Though Hamilton had squeaked at the sudden movement, he snuggled against Washington almost immediately. "Alexander, my poor, dear boy. It's alright. The storm has passed. I promise, you're safe now."

The words seemed to register with Alexander, who nodded and murmured softly under his breath. Washington caught a hint of his words. "...yessir, Father." His breath hitched. He tightened his hold on Alexander.

When his breathing slowed, Washington knew Alexander was asleep. He leaned his head back against the wall, a small smile playing on his lips. Eventually, his eyes closed too.

 **Finished! Yay! So that's the end, hope you enjoyed it, please review! Best wishes, ~RedCoatsRedder**


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